Page 9 of The Fallacy of True Love
“Hey.” I gave Dani a wounded look. “Shouldn’t you be on my side?”
“I am, but you said yourself that you need to make it up to your sister.”
“Here, here,” Luna said.
The rest of the table laughed, leaving me to look at the ceiling and sigh. It was more of a show than real annoyance because I was just relieved Dani was loosening up.
She gave me a smile that tugged at my chest. Then Luna asked her about work, and I was more than happy to watch three of the most important women in my life chatting and getting along.
Chapter Five
Cam
I chewed a mouthful of lechon, relishing how the crisp skin crackled and gave way to tender, garlicky meat. Swallowing, I said to Nikki, “Once again, you are the best chef in the world.”
“I don’t think I qualify as a chef, but thanks anyway,” she said with a laugh.
Eric, the third in our little band of misfits, spoke up. “I agree with Cam. Great food as always.”
“It wasn’t just me,” Nikki said. “You all helped.”
“Me too!” Jo waved her hand. “I helped too!”
I smiled at her. “That’s why it tastes extra yummy.”
The four of us sat at our favorite table in Cuppa Jo for our Christmas Eve celebration. Like last year, Nikki closed up shop mid-afternoon, and Eric and I came over to help prep food for noche buena. Traditionally, the meal was supposed to be at midnight, but since Nikki didn’t want to disrupt Jo’s sleeping schedule too much, we had ours at eight in the evening instead.
Somehow, I’d gone from knowing absolutely zero people in this place to having my own small but steady tribe. I couldn’t be more thankful for them.
Something wet nudged my leg, and I looked down at Milo, Eric’s recently adopted dog, who silently begged me for food with large, woeful eyes.
“Not for you, Milo,” I told him as I scratched behind his ears.
He let out a whine but snuggled deeper into my hand. After a minute or so, he left me to try his luck with Jo.
Eric asked me, “You’re still game for the fundraiser, right?”
“Yep.”
He was the cohead of Pinoy Para Sa Dagat, a local nonprofit for ocean conservation. They held events to raise funds and awareness for the cause, and this time, they were going all out with live music, a film screening, and volunteer booths. Nikki had one for Cuppa Jo, and Eric, as the main organizer, had convinced me to do tattoos along with another artist.
“You promise you’re not going to screen the people wanting to get tatts from you?” Nikki teased.
I winced. I loved tattoos—getting them and giving them—but the latter only applied to specific people. I didn’t rely on it for income, though it would definitely help. The way I saw it, my tattoos were my form of art. Placing it on someone else’s skin felt intimate, like sharing a piece of myself. I couldn’t bring myself to offer that up for commercial consumption.
It wasn’t the logical choice, but it was my choice.
Just like it was my choice to support my friend despite my self-imposed rule.
“Yeah, yeah. For one day,” I stressed.
Jo looked up from sneaking a scrap to Milo. “Can I get a tattoo?”
“Absolutely not,” Nikki answered before I could say a word. “When you’re older, sure.”
Jo’s bottom lip jutted out. “But Tita Cammy’s going to tattoo other people. Why not me?”
“I’ll prepare something special just for you,” I promised her.
